Dogteeth
by bisexualcharliedavis
Summary: My body is covered in teeth marks, your bite is worse then your bark. Anderson/Lestrade. Warnings inside.


/warnings for biting, blood and non con elements.

The door cracks open, and there is a soft echo of foot steps, as Greg's bare feet pad gently over to the bed where Anderson is pretending to sleep. The bed beneath him is dotted with small blood stains, turning the cover from light blue to brown as he lay there.

Anderson shuts his eyes tighter and hopes Greg will leave him be for the night, and just curl up next to him and sleep. He prays that Greg will just let him rest for the night. He hears the night stand open, and shut, but he keeps his eyes closed, too afraid to look out and see the glint of heated passion in Greg's eyes. Because Greg had always been a beacon of safety and hope and warmth. Comfort. Love.

His smaller, colder hand is lifted by Greg's larger warm one, and then he feels the thin band wrap around the skin, leaving as much of it bare as can be. There is another small click as the band's connected chain is attached to the bed post. So he can't escape. He wishes he'd never brought it up. He wishes he'd let them stay as vanilla as a gay couple can be.

The same fingers then brush his hair aside, trying to rouse him, for some reason, whatever beast he'd released inside of Greg wanted to see his face twist up and his mouth open and hear the sounds he makes. He gives in, and opens them slowly. He pulls gently on the chain, and Greg is delighted to find him to be awake.

He starts slow, like he always does, soft kisses down his sternum over the tiny scars that are dotted there, all the shape of Greg's teeth, marking him, claiming his own body as Greg's. The other man's blunt nails drag down his skin, causing an unwanted and unwarranted arch in his back as the blunt ness finally makes a nick and the skin gives way and a small line of blood is able to escape onto his skin. Greg moves up his body, and up his chest, and licks up the wound he has caused, as if he can heal it.

He won't cry yet, but he can feel the tears at the back of his eyes starting to form as Greg slowly hunts down a place on his skin not too scared from past nights to begin at. This is harder than it sounds with Greg having had a mood every day this week. It's Thursday and he has to work tomorrow, they both do. Greg does find a place that interests him, the soft flesh of Anderson's upper arm seems to entice him. It's not as if he hasn't bitten there before, but the scar is hardly noticeable compared to some of his others.

It hurts more then it should, when Greg first bites. Anderson has no fat on his body, he's small and thin, tiny and pale. His metabolism was fast. He couldn't help it that he was naturally short. Greg pulls back from the bite to feel the small indents he'd made, unable to see them in the darkness. He smiles, the minimal light in the room reflects off his teeth. He leans back down and then bites hard and fast.

His teeth pierce the skin, which gave way easily under his powerful jaws. He pulls backwards from the bite, still clasped on to Anderson's arm, as if he's trying to rip the chunk of flesh from him. It wouldn't shock him if one of these days Greg finally managed to. Anderson let out a soft cry, which became louder as Greg pulled. He finally let go, and the wounds polled quickly with blood that would leak onto the bed sheets. Greg pulled back the rest of the sheets from his waist, to reveal his lower body to be just as scared as his upper.

Greg's weight is heavy on top of him as he slowly bites down around Anderson's left nipple, a favorite of his. He never let this mark scar, he always re opened this wound, Anderson doesn't know why.

He bit down again, and Anderson lets out a howl this time. Greg tries to bit into his muscle and rip it away again, before his teeth slip and he re fastens them around the nipple itself. His teeth pierce the skin with ease, and Anderson swears to god that Greg is going to rip it off.

He wonders about getting his nipples pierced, if Greg would then move on to a less humiliating place to bite.

Greg finally released the tortured nipple from his lips, and sits back on his haunches as he looks for another spot to sink his unnaturally sharp teeth in to.

Anderson wishes he'd never given the okay for Greg to give him a love bite, there were not love bites, there were something else, something darker.

Greg's bloodied fingers make their way down his arm until they grip onto his hand. He lifts the limb extremity up and examine it in the darkness. He doesn't even bother with a practice mark this time, he just goes straight for it. It takes him a few goes to get past the stiff skin of Anderson's well worn palm and into the muscle under the skin. Anderson let out a purely primal scream as he did so, his back arched and his head tilted back. He shut his eyes as a tear leaked out and down his face as Greg shook his grip from side to side, like a dog trying to kill it's prey.

He drops the hand unceremoniously, and uses his fingers to them map out a spot on Anderson's stomach to bit, the only place on his body where it was soft. He opens his mouth and scrapes his teeth up to Anderson's navel until they catch on the soft bugle of flesh. He doesn't need to practice here, given how many time's he's attacked this part of the man. He bites down and down and down. Anderson cries and cries and cries and be pleads with Greg to stop. He does, and then grinds his teeth in the wound. Anderson sobs harder, his pleads are drowned out by the sobbing.

Upon finally releasing Anderson's stomach, Greg moves back on the bed, and leans down to the top of Anderson's right thigh. He tries to bit it three times and each time his teeth slip and he just bites a tiny bit of the skin off before he manages to get in there and actually bite him the way that he would anywhere else. Greg sits on this one for a while, not moving, just sitting with Anderson's thigh fastened between his teeth.

He releases it some minutes later, and Anderson is breathing heavily and fighting the urge to cry again.

admiring the bites he'd made on Anderson's skin, he bites the side of the chained arm, which had gone quite numb by now. He doesn't know if it's that or a mental block that's preventing him from feeling the pain.

He makes two bites in the arm, and then licks his way down to Anderson's chest again, where he bites down on his rib cage lightly, leaving a red mark there, before he bites down hard on the skin, the stiff muscle making him cry out in pain as the bite flared though his body.

He wants it to stop now and he tries pleading with Greg to stop now, enough, please, but Greg would never stop just because Anderson asked him too.

As Greg looks like he may bite down on Anderson's calf he can't help it, he tenses, and then, he realizes with horror, he's got a cramp. The muscles in his leg seize up and in the stress of the situation it seems so much worse than it actually is and his whole body tenses as he weeps in pain, trying to rub as the muscle as if it will convince it to release.

Greg sat back, seemingly enamoured by the tight muscle, he ran his fingers along it, and then bit down, without warning, on one of his hipbones, causing Anderson to cry out even louder. Anderson screamed and sobbed until the pain dissipated. Greg seemed to have had enough for one night, because he released the clasp holding him in place, and pulled the blanket back up over him. the book is already starting to travel through the sheet.

Greg pulled on a pair of boxers, and lay next to him in the bed. He has blood on his face and it smears on Anderson's shoulder as he continues to sob softly for what feels like forever.

They don't mention it the next morning, Greg doesn't even look at the marks as they shower. They eat breakfast and go to work. Greg says nothing about his limp. They go home in the evening, have dinner, laugh over their day, and then settle to watch some tv, cuddles together on the lounge until Anderson goes to bed.

Greg pads in a few hours later, and opens the table of the nightstand.


End file.
